Loki: Why I Began the End

by Maia Jacomus

  No sooner did I rise, than Odin embraced me with a fervent pat on the back. His one eye beamed with glory. “You will not see me again until I have learned the secret of Fenrir’s fetters.”

  “Tell the truth, Odin: You had a hand in putting him in those fetters.”

  He shook his head. “It was Heimdall’s servant Skirnir who went to the dark elves of Svartalfheim for the fetters. He had gone to the dwarfs, but anything they made was broken. I will, however, admit that I did not dispute the Aesir’s actions. Having the strength of a Jotun, he struck me as a threat. But he has vowed, and now so have you. With such acts, I will place my trust in you and your son. By my hand, Fenrir will again walk free—brother.”

  I grinned, disbelieving of how well we were getting along at that moment. “Well, brother, I will leave you to that. I am off to perform a far more difficult task: wrestling the God of Thunder into his wife’s dress.”

  Thor was nowhere throughout Asgard. Knowing him, he could have been anywhere, so I decided that, in order to find him, I had to think like him. And in order to think like him, I had to drink like him. So I went down to Midgard, just in time to see Odin cross the rainbow bridge as proof of his quest. Balder’s usual alehouse wasn’t far away, and I thought it a likely place to find the Thunder God.

  I felt happier than I had in a long time. Balder was free from the constant barrage of projectiles, giving me my favorite comrade back, and soon Fenrir would be free from his chains, giving me my son back. I would be whole again.

  Thor was in the alehouse, sitting at a table across the room from Balder, glaring into the emptiness and downing one of the many pints of ale queued up for him. I pretended to ignore him as I went over and sat with Balder at our usual table. He wanted to pick up our discussion regarding the division of the light elves and dark elves, but in whispers, I told him I had a mission concerning Thor. Then, in a loud voice, I began to explain it to him.

  “Your father wants me to help get Thor’s hammer back,” I began. “So I thought that we’d dress up Thor like Freya, Thrym will give him the hammer, and that’s that. But He-Whose-Ego-Knows-No-Bounds can’t do it. So how about you?”

  “You want me to dress up like Freya?”

  “Yes. And now I think of it, you would work a whole lot better than the blonde yeti over there.” That got his attention—Thor put down his drink and looked over to us. “You would pass for Freya better; with your clean-shaven face, you’re a lot prettier.”

  Balder grinned. “Finally, my true life’s purpose is realized.”

  “Besides, you can’t get hurt. There’s nothing for you to be afraid of, whereas Thor has to stand up against a monster ten times bigger than he is, and who has the Crusher. Yeah, I guess I can’t blame Thor for saying ‘no’. How can anyone expect him to go up against a moving mountain with a brain the size of a poppy seed? You’re clearly the better choice.”

  Thor overturned his table and stormed across the room, laying down his fists on our table so hard, that the ale jumped out of our mugs and almost hit the ceiling before splashing down to the ground. He pointed his finger at me severely, gritting his teeth against words he couldn’t express. Then he calmed a little and scoffed. “You think you can fool me, huh, Loki? You think you can jerk me around whatever way you want, and I’ll just go along for the ride? Boy, you must think I’m real dumb to fall for any of your tricks, so well as I know you.”

  “So you’ll do it?” I asked.

  “Yes, I will,” he said, sitting down next to me and hailing for a pint. “I don’t want anyone killing that toothless, rattle-headed ogre but me.” Just then, he seemed to notice Balder for the very first time. “How’ve you been?”

  “Good,” Balder replied.

  Thor nodded, silent for a moment, staring at Odin’s son like an estranged nephew. “You aren’t letting this mental case corrupt you, are you?”

  Balder laughed. “No more than necessary.”

  “You like fishing?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “When I get Mjollnir back, we should go.”

  I added, “So long as it’s not out to sea, right, Thor?” I chuckled as I thought of a story Balder hadn’t heard. “Thor was out in a boat, and he wasn’t catching anything, so he hooks up this bull’s head for bait…”

  “Loki…” Thor warned.

  I didn’t take any notice. “So he gets a bite and yanks the line, and Jor comes shooting out of the water with the line in his mouth.” I could hardly talk, as hard as I was laughing. “Thor just about wet himself!”

  “I did not!” Thor protested. Then he looked to Balder and said, “Who’re you going to believe—me, or the report of some water serpent whose father has worse breath than he’s got?”

  Now Balder was laughing so hard, that he almost made tears trying to stifle it.

  Thor merely shook his head and grumbled, “Why Odin ever became your blood-brother, I’ll never know.”

  “You may well ask the same of your friendship with me,” I quipped.

  “I would stand against the greatest monster with you, but I would never spill my blood for you.” Turning to Balder, he said, “Did he ever tell you about the time we went to Jotunheim to see that clod Geirrod?”

  Thor and I didn’t get around to our mission that day. We stayed at the alehouse long into the night, competing to tell the best story, of which Balder was the judge. We wrapped up the evening with a drinking contest—I only remember that Balder won, because he was incapable of getting drunk. When we woke up the next morning, both Thor and I had a different boot on each foot. Balder had to explain that, when our intoxication hit its peak, we told each other “I love you” and swapped left boots as a sign of best-friendship. Furthermore, the boots we swapped had cut locks of our hair in the toes. It was then that we had to tell Balder the golden rule: What happens in an alehouse dies in secret.

  CHAPTER TEN: RETRIEVING MJOLLNIR

  Thor and I weren’t sufficiently sober until the following afternoon. We clambered up to Asgard, where his wife Sif sorted through her gowns for a white one that could be altered to fit her husband. However, once the gown was chosen, she was forbidden to see him again until he returned with his hammer. Thor also had Tyr make sure no other Aesir could peer in on him as I helped him fit on the dress and veil. Once I stepped back to see my bearded comrade in the flowing white silk, I laughed until my knees couldn’t support me, and I fell to the ground. Freya herself isn’t the frailest or daintiest female, so to see the oak tree figure of Thor in white, his muscles and sinews almost tearing the fabric, his stern, blood-shot gaze surrounded by soft lace, the thought of him passing as a blushing bride was impossible—and hysterical. I didn’t stop laughing until the sole of his foot met my face with a strangling stench and a threat to bash my nose into my brain.

  I do miss that brawny bastard sometimes.

  Then I couldn’t get him to step outside. Tyr assured him fifty times over that he wouldn’t be seen by another Aesir, but Thor still wouldn’t budge.

  “Get moving already!” I sighed. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’re done. If anyone laughs at you, I’ll put their name on a list, and you can pummel them when we get back.”

  Then a smirk slowly sprouted from under his veil. “I’m not doing this alone, Loki.”

  “I know; I’m going with you.”

  “No, I mean a bride shouldn’t go to her wedding without a bridesmaid.”

  I scoffed and shook my head wildly. “Oh no, you don’t! I’m just the plan master.”

  “If I’m going down, you’re coming with me.”

  Any protestations I could come up with fell on deaf ears. Between him and Tyr, I somehow found myself in a white spring dress with a flower garland on my head. Yeah, you think that’s funny, don’t you? But, hey, with my scrawny frame and clean-shaven face, I was awfully pretty. You should be grateful I didn’t cross-dress for our wedding; I would have pulled focus.

  I was just kidding! Okay, so I deserved it, but that�
��s going to leave a mark…

  So anyway, looking at Thor’s guise, I couldn’t help but think something was missing, some definitive feature that, despite his ogre shape, would convince the giant that this bride was Freya. Granted, Thrym wasn’t very bright, but with Thor looking like a net full of boulders, he needed all the help he could get. Then I realized what the perfect finishing touch would be: Freya’s necklace, Brising-whatever. Not only did that bauble catch people’s attention more than the goddess’s eyes, but it would be undeniable proof that the bride I presented was Freya.

  Of course, there would be no convincing Freya to give it up. Because of the multiple infidelities she enacted to possess it, her husband left her. Not even that moved her to dump the thing in the Rhine. I knew I would have to borrow it discreetly—or in plain terms, steal it. On the one hand, it wouldn’t be too difficult: Since her husband left, she fell into the habit of hiding her depression by taking an afternoon nap. On the other hand: Heimdall, watch guard of Asgard, could hear my approach to her home and catch me in the act. That sneak could smell a fire before it burned, and could hear the flints strike from ten miles away. No wonder he passed as an Aesir so well. I would need to distract him somehow.

  I struck a casual conversation with Tyr. Because of his respect for my son, I in turn respected him. I complimented his dexterity in changing sword arms with such ease, using his formerly dominant hand for a shield. I then segued into encouraging him to visit Fenrir again. I know he hadn’t since he was chained, but I assured him that my son had forgiven him and would appreciate the company. Not only did I believe in my words, but they worked to my purpose: As Tyr approached where Fenrir was chained, Heimdall’s attention was directly fixed to their meeting, wondering if the wolf would attack again. Now that the guard was distracted, I made my way to Freya’s home.

  As I came close to where she slept, she stirred. I immediately formed into the likeness of her ever-distant husband Odur—she would have seen through my bridesmaid guise easily. Her eyes opened completely, and she smiled. It was…weird. She had never smiled at me before.

  “My husband!” she sighed. “Do I dream, or have you finally returned to me?”

  “This is just a dream.” I made my voice somewhat hypnotic.

  Her smile diminished. “Why do you torture me with your image?”

  “I am only here as a reminder: No matter how far I am from you, we have each other in our dreams.” It took all I could muster to not wince at such sentimentality.

  “You are right, my love. But before I depart from this dream, let me have a kiss.”

  I swallowed a laugh. After all, this did work toward my goal. Mind you, that’s all it was: a means to an end. So as I leaned in and touched my lips to hers, I carefully unfastened the necklace from her neck, hastily hiding it behind my back. As she had closed her eyes for the kiss, she slipped off back to sleep. Then I reverted back to myself in my bridesmaid costume and ran out as fast as I could.

  I’m laughing because it was funny, not because I enjoyed it. And no, I’m not blushing—I don’t blush. Come on, it was all to help get Thor’s hammer back. Okay, fine; if it’ll make you feel better, go ahead and…Well, you could’ve used the other cheek this time…Yeah, like that. Better? You should be; that really stings.

  That necklace really did help a lot, anyway. Even buried under the veil, it sparkled. With Thor’s disguise complete, we were ready to see Thrym.

  We reached Jotunheim near twilight—I think the dim lighting was to our advantage. As we passed through to Thrym’s cliff-side home, I had to keep all the other Jotun at bay, shouting, “Make way for Freya, bride to Thrym!” When we arrived at his home, all his kin were assembled—I could tell green teeth and hairy underarms ran in his family. And Thrym himself stepped forth, a vision in ragged, dirt-clumped furs. I presented Freya-Thor, and he smiled wide.

  “Freya has come to marry me!” he exclaimed. He gave his bride a crushing embrace, then stared for a moment at the veiled face. “Freya’s eyes burn like coals.”

  I made up an excuse: “That’s because she hasn’t slept all these nights, in anticipation of her wedding day.”

  That worked; his smile grew. “Then let the wedding feast begin!”

  He wrapped his arm around Thor’s and pulled him over to the table set up for the occasion. The table was overcrowded with food—for me, the only perk of the whole mission. As soon as we sat down, Thor and I engaged in a ritual pastime: an eating contest. No words or glances needed to be exchanged; the challenge was instinctively suggested every time we sat down at a dinner table together. I waited until he loaded up his plate, then loaded mine up with the same amount. While these contests could at times come close, there was no competing with the Thunder God when he’s anticipating a battle. He ate an entire ox-worth of beef, a stream-worth of salmon, and polished off five casks of mead.

  “Freya eats like a wolf,” Thrym observed.

  “That’s because she’s just anxious for her wedding,” I explained. “The sooner the feast ends, the sooner the ceremony can begin.”

  He grinned and finished off the remaining food with one bite and gulp. He then pulled Thor out of his chair and dragged his bride-guise over to the stone archway crudely assembled for the ceremony. He knelt down in front of Thor and unsheathed Mjollnir. I could see the vein in Thor’s neck start to throb, and I knew a massacre would soon follow.

  Thrym presented the hammer to his false bride, saying, “With this hammer, I wed you, Freya.” As he released the hammer, he peered into the veil. “Ah! Freya is smiling at me!”

  “That’s because she’s eager to kill you,” I remarked, removing the veil from Thor’s head. “Hang on,” I told him as I unlatched Freya’s necklace. “Don’t want any blood on this. Okay, go ahead.”

  I didn’t stay for what followed. In short, Thor eradicated Thrym and his entire family. So I left and changed out of my bridesmaid’s costume, walking around Midgard with Freya’s necklace and wondering how to smuggle it back to its owner. By then, I knew she was up from her nap, and of course she knew it was gone. If I returned it, whatever my excuse for taking it, she would strangle me with my own tongue. I thought for a moment about giving it to Hel—none of the Aesir ever visit her, anyway—but I didn’t want to get her in trouble, nor did I want her to acquire the curse of materialism. So the only decision that made any sense was to throw it into the Rhine, knowing the Rhine Maidens would appreciate it without asking questions.

  I never made it to the Rhine. Crossing just by Yggdrasil’s trunk, I was tackled to the ground by something I didn’t even see coming—it was Heimdall. Ram Boy had me pinned to the ground so that I could barely move before I even heard his feet shuffle through the grass.

  “Where’s Brisingamen?” he demanded.

  “I told you, Freya, you keep acting like a man, someday you’re going to turn into one.”

  He clutched my shoulders and beat me against the ground. “Where is it?”

  I at first entertained the thought of misdirecting him—to tell him that I already threw it in the Rhine, and he had to go fish it out. As much fun as that would have been, it would have just dragged out the inevitable. “Calm down; it’s right in my pocket.” I squirmed my hand into my pocket and took out the necklace. “There. You can give Freya her pet back; I don’t want it. And when you give it to her, you can add that it helped Thor get his hammer from the Jotun.”

  “I’m not passing along any of your lies, you leech.”

  “Leech?”

  “That’s all you are, after all. You leech off the power and prestige of the Aesir without contributing anything useful to our cause.”

  I just laughed. “Whose idea was it that got Thor his hammer back? Who does Odin call on whenever the Aesir have any kind of problem?”

  “You may be able to fool them, but you can’t fool me.”

  “Are you kidding me with this?! Who’s fooling Odin? Who’s the leech? Better yet: Which one of us is the Aesir half of the changeli
ng pair?”

  For a moment, his eyes almost popped out of his head. But then they glared murder as he struck me hard against the ground. “How do you know that? Doesn’t matter; no one would believe you.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell Odin and find out.” I escaped him by forming into a fly and buzzing away.

  Heimdall wasn’t deterred—he snatched me out of the air like he was picking lint off his sleeve, then he tried to crush me in his fist. “Odin’s gone from Asgard, anyway, on a quest.”

  I formed into a tortoise, prying his fist open until he dropped me. Then I formed into a raptor and shot into the air, just missing his attempt to ground me. Satisfied with the safe distance between us, I perched on a branch of the ash tree and called to him, “He won’t be gone forever! And in his absence, it could be fun to stir up some rumors among the other Aesir!” I could see that he was taking me seriously, so I added, “Clear things with Freya, and maybe I’ll keep your drunken ramblings secret for awhile longer!”

  Knowing his flying pony would be probably be along soon, I didn’t wait for a reply—I took off toward the sky, trying clumsily to control the amazing speed of my feathered form.

  That’s why I didn’t return home until the next day. Can’t remember if I ever told you that. Then again, you probably got used to me vanishing without a trace for untold hours or days. Why did you put up with that? No, never mind. If you start mulling over an answer, I might never see you again.

  Well…at least now you always know where I am.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: SAVING BALDER

  Now I’m coming to the part that it all really boils down to.

  Unfortunately, my remedy for Balder’s mental wellbeing didn’t last. Once Thor got his hammer back, things returned to normal in the alehouse. Everyone assembled to hurl random objects at Odin’s son, laughing as they struck him like twigs against stone. Balder sat with his back to the room, hunched over his drink, head bowed.

  Then Thor strode in. Everyone silenced in anticipation, waiting for him to throw his hammer. He sat in his usual chair, ordered a pint, and drank it in one gulp. The one sitting beside him nudged his arm. Thor looked from him to everyone else in the room, showing that he acknowledged them. But he didn’t draw out his hammer; he just ordered more ale.